


Favours

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Collars, Dom/sub, Dominance, Ficlet, M/M, Mirror Universe, Oral Sex, Public Blow Jobs, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 05:52:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1215103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Spock passes Jim around for morale’s sake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Favours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [grrarg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/grrarg/gifts).



> A/N: "Drabble" for grrarg's “Jim being passed around” request on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Mr. Sulu’s endurance is improving. By the time he’s shuddering uselessly and proclaiming that the end is neigh, he’s lasted a full five minutes longer than last time. Under Jim’s talented ministrations, that’s particularly noteworthy. Encouraged, Jim impales himself fully, the entirety of Mr. Sulu’s impressive length swallowed in his mouth and throat. They’re turned in the chair for Spock’s viewing—any time he decides to share his yeoman, it’s with the understanding of full disclosure. Jim’s never to be taken away from him, never quite out of his sight. Jim’s cheeks hollow, and a second later, Mr. Sulu’s howling release, fisting Jim’s golden hair and holding him still by it. The action is unnecessary; Jim is exquisitely trained. He would swallow every last drop regardless of any other man’s instructions—he knows that Spock doesn’t want a mess on his bridge. 

A moment later, Jim’s slipping off, licking his lips and tucking Mr. Sulu’s softening cock back into his pants, while Mr. Sulu groans appreciatively. He gives Jim a pat like a dog, and Jim preens under it, always smug for his low rank. Mr. Sulu lingers a few moments with a pretty, used, naked Jim at his feet, then, eventually, turns back to the helm. 

Jim, wearing nothing but his collar, crawls out and around Mr. Sulu’s chair. He approaches Ensign Chekov next, who glances down at Jim, clearly surprised, then back at Spock. 

Spock nods benevolently; even ensigns are important to keep loyal. There’s a reason Spock is the only Empire captain on record who has yet to deal with a mutiny. Ensign Chekov practically beams, hurriedly opening his pants before Jim can do it himself. 

Ensign Chekov’s cock is smaller than Mr. Sulu’s, quite a bit smaller than Spock’s, (like most humans) so Jim has an easy time sliding right down and humming happily around it. Ensign Chekov lights up in an instant, wisely biting his lip to overcome the whimpers most unbecoming of a Starfleet officer. Spock keeps his eyes on the pair nonetheless. Until they reach Starbase Seven, there is no better use of his attention. 

When the doors open in the background, Spock doesn’t bother to check who it is. He recognizes the sound of Dr. McCoy’s footsteps, and few others seem to have a knack for bursting onto the bridge at any moment for little to no reason. He comes to a stop behind Spock’s chair as usual, as though it’s his post away from sickbay. As Jim begins bobbing enthusiastically up and down Ensign Chekov’s pink shaft, Spock spares a glance over his shoulder, eyebrows raised in invitation for an explanation. 

Obviously, as usual, there isn’t one. “What the devil is going on here?” As though it’s at all strange for senior officers to enjoy their toys. From years of knowing the doctor, Spock’s sure that Dr. McCoy’s real indignation is at not being immediately invited. 

“Given the trying nature of our previous mission, I have decided to pass my yeoman around to encourage a higher morale,” Spock announces. Out the corner of his eye, he notes that Ensign Chekov’s stamina has in no way improved, but then, he is still very young. He’s already humping Jim’s face furiously and muttering curses in Russian, a sure sign that he’s nearing release. He arches grandly when he comes, moaning so provocatively that it could almost rival Jim. 

Spock’s hardly surprised when Dr. McCoy waves Jim over a moment later, and Jim halts his present rounds of the bridge to crawl over. His ass flexes beautifully as he moves, trained on all fours with catlike reflexes. He comes to sit at Dr. McCoy’s feet and looks mischievously up, nuzzling into the doctor’s knees. If Spock were a jealous man not entirely convinced of Jim’s loyalty, he would find their lingering bond troublesome. But Jim flashes his charming smile at Spock too, a stray trail of cum beaded at the corner of his mouth. He licks it away while Dr. McCoy reaches down to pet him. 

“You know,” Dr. McCoy muses, his gaze now firmly fixed on the blond at his feet. “I’m not sure I condone this method; maybe I should bring Jim down to sickbay first, run some tests and see if he’s really up for being the Enterprise’s communal sex toy. All that cum could do real damage to a man’s stomach, you know.”

More tightly than he means to, Spock says, “I am fully aware of Jim’s limits.”

Perhaps knowing it’s a battle he can’t win, Dr. McCoy switches tactics to, “Have you had your turn yet?” And Spock blinks at him—that was not the expected response.

Though Spock does enjoy their usual banter, however biting, he takes the veiled truce. “I have not.” However, as Dr. McCoy should be well aware: “My proclivities do not include public displays.”

Dr. McCoy snorts and smirks in that needless way of his. “Whether or not _you’d_ like it, Spock, I think it’d be damn good for morale to know just how adept our captain is.” He lifts his eyebrow in clear challenge. Spock’s eyes linger on Dr. McCoy’s heavy gaze before drifting down to Jim, who licks his lips and stares back hopefully. Jim’s preference for particular cocks is no secret; he’s never shown anything less than utter eagerness for Spock’s attentions. 

Because those blue eyes are illogically difficult to resist, Spock asks in resignation, “Mr. Sulu, what is the estimated time left to our destination?”

Mr. Sulu’s breath is still a little short. “Six hours, Sir.” More than enough time. 

“Very well.”

Spock settles back in his chair, and he’s barely spread his legs before Jim’s rushed over to him. Spock is hyper aware of the many sets of eyes on him, sneakily watching out of peripherals or from behind convenient PADDs. Dr. McCoy makes no effort to hide his stare, but then, their relationship has always been... complicated. The smirk on his face might denote feelings of victory. 

Spock tells himself that these sets of eyes do not matter. Public sexuality is not a Vulcan standard, but it is, he knows, considered an assertion of power amongst many species in the Empire. Such displays ensure his own security, so he does his best to ignore the wriggling feeling in the back of his mind that this isn’t appropriate. The easiest way to divert himself is to look down at Jim, who’s nuzzling into Spock’s crotch, clearly waiting for Spock to make his mental preparations. The corners of Spock’s lips nearly twitch up in a smile; Jim knows him very well. 

Jim kisses his crotch when he’s ready. Jim doesn’t need to hear Spock’s signal; he lifts up on his knees and slowly runs his spread fingers up Spock’s inner thighs, letting Spock revel in the joys of _touch_ : a more Vulcan pleasure. His probing tongue follows, tracing the groove of Spock’s legs over to the bulge that rapidly forms to meet him; Jim smirks worse than Dr. McCoy. Spock isn’t ashamed of how easily his yeoman arouses him. Jim is his, and Jim should be everything Spock needs. He is. He mouths at the imprint of Spock’s dick until being confined is nearly painful, and Spock allows a sharp intake of breath as a warning.

Instantly, Jim snaps to action. His fingers dart to Spock’s fly, and he dives through the layers of fabric, bypassing pants and boxers to pull out the thick cock waiting for him, green with need and pulsing in his fingers. Pumping it up and down, Jim exposes it to the air and runs his tongue along the underside. Back up, and Jim swirls around the top and licks at the slit, then reverts to kisses down one side, then another, laving over the line of each vein and falling to lick and suck at Spock’s balls, heavy and hairless and too large to fit both in his mouth at a time. Spock reaches for Jim’s head and strokes his hair back encouragingly. Jim glances back and continues thoroughly worshiping his captain’s cock. 

Only when Jim’s properly tasted every last centimeter does he rise back to the bulbous head, where he stretches his lips wide and pops happily over it, sucking once and mewling in delight. He’s expressed more than once how much he enjoys the sticky-sweet taste of Vulcan cock, and it shows in his dilated pupils and the pink stain across his cheeks. Jim’s eyelids fall half closed as he pushes himself down, tongue slack and throat relaxing. Spock sports quite a bit more girth than the rest of the bridge crew, not to mention considerable length, and it took a hefty amount of training for Jim to finally be able to take it properly. Now, he can take all of Spock, but it always threatens to unhinge his jaw and leaves him dazed. For the best results, Spock lets him stop halfway down and start to bob from there. His hands clutch at Spock’s base to provide the rest, and he pistons his head on and off, too engorged to lick properly. Every few thrusts, he stops and hollows out his cheeks, sucking as hard as he can. Spock pets down his hair and thumbs his cheek, just as pleased as always. 

Jim glances back up, but his lips are stretched far too wide to give any indication of expression beyond the burning in his eyes. He pulls back off and shoves back down, screwing on and just generally looking as gorgeous as any being has any right to look. Though Spock didn’t choose him for being pretty, he’s undeniably beautiful, especially with his pink lips glossy with spit and his cheeks indented by Spock’s dick. He does all of the work himself, while Spock’s hips stay strictly in place despite all temptation. Jim fucks himself so rigorously on the cock in his mouth that having Dr. McCoy on hand might be a good precaution. 

When Spock manages to look sideways, he’s not particular surprised to find the doctor hard and stroking himself through his pants, staring down at Jim with unabashed lust. Spock knows better than to expect his officers not to look; Jim is purely irresistible. Jim ignores his audience and does so well that he works himself up—by the time Spock looks back down, Jim’s hips are rocking in the air, clearly wanting release. Spock will let him, of course, as soon as he’s finished his task. 

If Spock really wanted to, he could slip into a meditative state and allow Jim to suck him off for hours. In the privacy of his own quarters, that’s not an entirely uncommon occurrence. But Spock’s in his captain’s chair, and he has a handful of others officers who deserve a turn, so he lets his body approach the natural climax. It’s obvious that Jim works harder with Spock than with anyone else. He puts everything he has into it, even whimpering around his mouthful and shifting to try and hump Spock’s leg. Spock lets him do so and even rubs his hard cock with one boot—Jim moans in adoration and redoubles his efforts. His hands run down from the base of Spock’s shaft to cup Spock’s balls, squeezing as though encouraging them to empty themselves in Jim’s eager mouth. 

A few delicious moments later, Spock succumbs to the heady ecstasy of Jim’s lust. His cock spasms and explodes, pouring out a searing wave of hot cum down Jim’s throat. Jim makes a single choked sound, then masters himself instantly, having had plenty of practice. He relaxes and takes it, sitting back and slackly letting his stomach be filled with Spock’s seed. Spock still keeps his hips in check, and when he nears the end of his prolonged load, Jim sucks, drawing out everything that’s left. He stays on for several seconds more than necessary, mouthing at Spock’s dick and sucking and moaning in clear delight. 

When he finally pulls off, it’s with a deep moan. He nuzzles into Spock’s crotch and inhales deeply, back to humping Spock’s leg. Spock strokes the back of his neck and his shoulders, passing the gratitude through their unspoken bond. 

“My turn?” 

Spock looks at Dr. McCoy, who, despite the courtesy of the question, looks ready to growl and pounce. Spock allows Jim a few more seconds to recuperate, then decides, “Very well.”

Obediently, Jim sits back and turns to Dr. McCoy. There’s a flash of disappointment on his pretty face—he’s still hard himself—but he nonetheless kneels before the doctor and opens his swollen lips, ready to drown in more cum.

While Dr. McCoy hurriedly fiddles with his uniform, Spock tucks himself back in and gracefully slips off his chair. He kneels down behind Jim, careful to keep his posture tight and his general air regal—he’s aware that captains should not be kneeling and pleasing yeomen. But Jim deserves his release as well as anyone, and Spock reaches between his legs to grab his cock. Jim instantly gasps and bucks into him. 

A minute later, Jim’s mouth is filled too much with Dr. McCoy’s fat cock to release any more delightful sounds, So Spock simply milks him in the relative quiet of a happy bridge with very, very high morale.


End file.
